In Which Red Was Never More Beautiful
by The Lesbian Prince
Summary: "I'm… sorry," she spoke, blowing cerise bubbles that dribbled down her triangular chin. The color red was never so beautiful that day. -My own version of the ending to the story story, 'The Lady or the Tiger' written by, Frank Stockton.- Rated M for mentions of gore. ONE SHOT


**The Lady or the Tiger?**

**_-In Which Red Was Never More Beautiful—_**

_This continues off from the cliffhanger that the author left us at, at the end of his short story. This is my take on what had happened._

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In the way her form emanated confidence, her lover knew her discreet gesturing to the right was the correct choice. Her knowledge would not lead him astray, and even if the epithalamic song began to announce his marriage with another maiden, he only hoped that the princess knew that she would always hold a place in his heart that no other beauty could replace.

Grinning, elated just from the promise of life thriving behind a red satin curtain, he moved forward in the general direction the princess had motioned at. In his _'over the moon'_ state of mind, he had missed the look of forlorn that passed through his lover's eyes, and how she could barely keep her eyes on him as his hand gripped the red, hanging fabric. Turning to survey the crowd, he triumphantly pulled back the curtain, ready to face the girl that was on the other side.

Silence shrouded the amphitheater, to the point where the tension in the atmosphere almost had a solid edge to it. Nonetheless, it was soon shattered when the revelation was brought into words, "it's the _tiger!"_

The princess got up out of her thrown, ridding away the barbaric manacles that were her restraints to staying solid against emotions such as those that flooded her heart. Her pleas and babbling apologies of regret to the animal were helpless as it hunched forward, all long, sinewless muscles and evident bones from its days without feeding popping out from its striped fur like a stray cat. Its yellow eyes stared ravenously at the man in front of it, whose buff frame would supply a plentiful amount of meat deliciously into its empty stomach that growled in want. Licking the corner of its mouth, it stalked forward, white fangs glinting in the slivers of lights that passed through the windows and the people in front of it. As the onlookers grew excited over the impending execution, their black shadows on the blood-stained floor appeared as hell's little miscreants reaching out to grab his feet, to pull him under the weight of the tiger that desired to eat him. Taking one last glance back at the princess…the one who betrayed him, he felt that one piece of his heart that held a prodigious love for the woman fall out of place, leaving a void behind where compassion once existed.

With his fate now accepted, he closed his eyes while bidding the world a final goodbye in a silent prayer.

"No!" A voice screamed, and he smiled idly as he thanked whichever deity granted him one last chance to hear the voice of the one who broke his heart. But reality came crashing down when the pleas grew nearer, and the paranoia of someone standing before him drew goose bumps across the expanse of his arms. At first, he would've believed it to be the tiger, but when the sweet fragrance of lilac hit his senses, consuming him in comfortable warmth; he knew _who_ was standing as a barrier between him and death.

Eyes yawning open to witness what was happening through sight, every detail that was noted with just his smell and hearing alone was confirmed when he saw the princess standing before him, radiating an aura of confidence. It was in direct contrast to the things transpiring outside the world of cordiality she had forced him into with her presence alone.

Everything would be alright.

Every single thing was right in the world.

He was so overwhelmed with relief that tears poured down his cheeks, thickly and slow in comparison to the speed of which the world turned in his adrenaline. Nothing could ruin this moment.

Until he realized, that the congealing liquid on his face was not just his own tears.

It was funny, as he would've described it as beautiful any other time when the circumstances didn't entail death. Red was such a beautiful color on the princess. The way it complimented her hair that rained down her back in loose curls, and just the right amount on the front of her dress that it sparkled faintly when the light caught it, was just beautiful.

But then, the world sped up, and at his feet laid the princess, smiling up at him as deep scratches scored the front her neck.

_"I'm… sorry," _she spoke, blowing cerise bubbles that dribbled down her triangular chin.

The color red was never so beautiful that day.

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**I do not take any ownership over these character's. They belong to _Frank Stockton. _**


End file.
